Today I had a morning meeting with our lawyer, before heading to work. I was getting ready, and so were my parents. Not that they were coming along; oh no, they were headed out for breakfast.
Thanks to repeating the conversation I had with my boss to them, my mum cheekily asked whether the lawyer was dishy. I ignored this, when my dad chirped in to stick up for the French Student. (Those two. Thick as thieves.) So I said that someone could be exceptionally handsome, loaded with intelligence and wealth, and be a wonderful person and I still wouldn’t consider giving up my French student.
Of course, my mum being my mum says, no guy is good enough for you. So I respond, “I know, right? I am such a dream to live with!”
To which my parents snort derisively and chuckle like I’ve cracked the joke of the century. And suddenly the French Student became “the poor French Student”.